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Mustadar Spiritwalker
"You know.....I think he....likes fat chicks...." -Ograhan Frostfist Physical Description Although most would consider this taunka to be odd, warpish, and extremely big, he is infact very average for a bull. Also, one would peg him initially for a death knight of considerable ferocity, and ruthlessness. His armor is always huge, bulky, and very thick, being heavy plate with chainmail underneath for added support against ranged weaponry. His entire body is covered in a thin layer of fat, while underneath lies very hard, tough muscle, and a thick skeleton. His hair is average, being of medium length, and a very long, braided beard. He is often boasting of it even "outdoing dwarves", stroking it when in deep thought. He has two chops going down the sides of his face, all of this hair being grayish, and plush. Along with these physical characteristics, one would instantly notice his face. Like a buffalo, his viasage is flat, with a long nose, not pointing out. His entire body is covered in a longer, thicker fur, and his mane being fluffy in nature. A taunka! With shorter horns, pointing outwards, he attempts to look fearsome, but has a fluffy cuddly look in reality. His eyes are, yes, blue, Being a death knight like so many others. Seeming rather fresh, his body hasn't accumulated any decomposition, being frozen for nearly all of his days as a corpse. His body is lukewarm, this changing usually with the temeperature around him, not really having any control over it. His innards do not work, having no pulse, and no fluids pumping. Though his stomache is still very much intact, it wouldn't do much more than quickly dissolve anything he throws in it. Two working taste buds! Woohoo! His runeblade is that of the Ebon Blade, being long, and sharp. The black steel is elegantly carved, having six runes among the odd carvings. They glowed like eery pale moons, their glow enpowering when the bull is in combat, readying themselves Personality His appearance is stiflingly similar to his personality. Raised into a life of cold ruthless weather, and to hunt endlessly to keep his clan afloat, he is no newcomer to hard labor, and often prefers to do things himself. Seeing much joy in other people, he tries to act as a guardian to his friends and pupils. He is often more warm of a death knight than most will ever see, having a certain stoic quality to him. He is -the- Alpha male. Don't get in his way, or he'll issue a stern talking to! But really. Seriously, he has horns. He finds politics rather boring, and tends to think of himself selfishly in the right places. A sense of honor always remains in this fallen Brave, finding a lacking in his former life. The attitude of his fervor is very intense, trying to solve a problem quickly without thinking of the later effects. He welcomes undeath, like most things, as a new way of life. It is the only way he, and his people can survive, and he will defend his way of life. At least, that's his philosophy. Somewhat of a shaman in life, He has developed a responsible approach at the undead, using only corpse dust, and never unleashing his minions unless needed. His ignorance is positively astounding, having no knowledge of Horde culture in the slightest, and finding it hard to cope in many situations. Even slapping the hand of a man trying to shake his. Even to trying to find mammoth tusks for a woman he cares for, but later being told flowers were a better approach. He finds the Taunka and Tauren to be very similar, and having no real differences in anything but the generosity of the Spirits between their cultures. Backround Born in the harsh environment of the north wastes, Mustadar has become a very strong, cunning individual, developing a natural sense of right or wrong from his heritage. His father, a shaman, wished for his son to take the same path, teaching him the ways of the spirits, and to give them enough hesitant respect to earn their understanding. His mother, a rather abrasive woman, was a very strong, large woman. Often considered "big boned" by her family, she welcomed Bolor into her life, and soon, they became lovers, marrying to eachother through their ancient rituals. One thing lead to another, and the woman was pregnant, only enpowering the two's union. Mustadar was born, rather larger, and well fed, due to his mother's weight. His youth was rather uneventful, spending most of his time in the camp's inn, where mothers would raise their children. At the age of fourteen, he was brought through the wastes by his father, learning the land very well, and eventually hunting, and killing a rhino calf on his own, dragging the carcass back to his village, as his father smiled approvingly. Afterwards, his right to be an official member of the village was complete, and was taught the ways of the spirits by the camp's leader, and his father. Under their tutilage, he and a friend of his, Ograhan, were brought up as very powerful callers of the elements. Legends of the Far Waste "They call him the bringer of hope. In times of famine and death, he brought our people back from the dark ages. We thank him for his kindness and generosity." Rolor Spiritwalker One evening, Mustadar and Ograhan had decided to attempt the slaying of one of the storm giants to the south, thinking it a great feat, and a test of wills. After a long journey, the young bulls made a camp, stalking a huge giant's footsteps carefully, before finding him the next morning in a cave. Carcasses of carabou, rhino, and mammoths littered the area, a large fireplace set up to roast these animals. The tauren looked on at the strange setting, before stepping slowly into the caves, searching silently for the giant. WHAM! the giant jumps down from a large ledge, roaring menacingly, the two tauren were caught completely off guard, knocked to their backs from the shockwave, and scrambling to get up. It was, unfortunately, too late, as the giant picked up the two taunka him either hands, glaring at them. "Why you in my cave?! Hm!? You think it funny to follow me?!" The two bulls looked at eachother, in awe of the fact this being could even talk, let alone speak their language. "Little earthen! Grrrar!" "You seek to bring me into imprisonment?!" The giant's sight obviously wasn't too good, but the looked up to him as he said this. "We're not those dirt-people! We're Taunka! Please, we're sorry we disturbed you! It won't happen again!" The storm giant glared to them, squeezing them. They screamed in agony. "Please! We'll leave, and never come back! We're spirit talkers! Please!" pleaded Mustadar. "Spirit talkers....?" the giant piped up. "Yes! You known, storm bringers, fire callers, tree talkers!" Mustadar reasoned. "Storm bringers...?" The giant squinted, he blinked, releasing his grip slightly, eyes wide. "Oh....You no earthen......Heh....You bison-men! I've heard such great stories!" The giant chuckled, sitting on a huge boulder. "Is it true that Stormhoof killed the North Wind? That was such a nice story. Grish hate the North Wind..." he stared again. "Oh yes! Of course! We've heard the tales of Stormhoof, but tell me, where've you heard it?" Ograhan asked. "Me a Storm Giant! All my kind know the tale! Why do you think we're called STORM giants?! Haha!" The giant grinned, teeth green and yellow, a few missing. He set the two down. "Oh...Right...We Taunka always assumed you were our enemies....We apologize for coming here, It really was Musta's idea! I swear! We won't try to hurt you again!" Mustadar quickly glared at his friend, who smiled up to the giant. "Oh, it fine. I'm sorry, I had no idea you were one of the hoof people. Here! Take a mammoth carcass back with you, I've already eaten today." The giant pointed to a extremely -huge- mammoth body, nearly completely in tact. The tusk! Oh my, The tusks. Pristine and perfect, gleaming in the dimly lit cave. The two would be revered for the next decade if they were to bring such an intact body back to their village. "That?! You're -giving- us that?! Yes! It was my idea!" Mustadar smacked Ograhan accordingly, and the two bowed their heads to the kind giant. "Oh yes, please, Take it! Feel free to return to my cave, little bisons." The two began preparing ropes and a rather odd contraption, used by the Taunka to carry large amounts of cargo across snow. They prepared to leave, thanking the giant, grinning all the way back to their camp. The entire village was in an uproar! After many long months of hunger, the entire village had enough supplies to last them through the harshest weeks. Fires, songs, dances, a whole celebration of feasting and thanking for the two heroes who brought the -biggest- mammoth from the wastes, his plump mother delightfully packing on the pounds during this harsh winter season. In due time, they were known as legends. Call to Arms: The Magnataur The ancient beasts of Northrend do not relent. Not for anyone. Nor does anyone relent against them. The constant struggle for survival has vanquished many many beings, and these harsh wastes are completely unforgivable. The spirits would fight against their own children, destroying them, for reasons unknown to most. The Taunka have mustered the strength to bully back the spirits into helping them. In due time, the fearsome Magnataur had become a great force in the land, the Taunka quickly becoming their biggest enemy. Cannibalism is generally frowned upon by pre-burgers. Anyways, The far reaches of the Storm Peaks hid many mysteries. Nearby hunters had noticed a large group of roaming Magnataur, forming what could be thought of as a clan. They raided a nearby encampment, and desecrated the nearby burial caves. The Taunka chieftan at the time was extremely angered, affronted by the mere idea of the spirits of her ancestors being defiled. The Taunka rallied every able bodied clansmen to march into what is now the Snowdrift plains, the past gathering place for these wretched creatures. They marched through the snowy plains, a blizzard coming through, a small taureness being the only casualty during the march. She lost her led from Frostbite. After a long, tiresome journey, they quickly ran in, through a small ravine, stealthily manuervering closer and closer to what is now the Frozen Mine. They camped there for the night, gathering their strength to charge north, and rid the world of the only organized Magnataur on the continent. This all was obviously long before the havoc of Loken and his Iron Dwarves, as most of this territory was all open for animals and the Taunka. The Taunka rode out the next morning, all manner of stone and leather weaponry and armor. Achers, Hunters, Shamans, and great warriors all alike. The Braves of Tunka'lo they were known as. Mustadar wore thisa title proudly, fighting alongside his brethren for the first time. After all this tension, The Tauren crept across the wastes to the Magnataur. A scout had spotted them! A toothy grin on his face, he roared out, before a hunter shot an arrow right into his shoulder. He growled menacingly, charging at them. The battle had begun! After the beast was slain, the tauren each took a look at their surroundings. Dozens of Magnataur lined the cliffs, and hills. Completely surrounded, The braves looked around in desperation. The taunka had a few tricks up their sleeves. But MAGNATAUR? They began roaring, charging out in all directions, many slaughtered by the fire callers. The situation was grim, all hope was lost. Then, something happened, the Magnataur did not intend by any means. Grish, and his beloved wife roaring wildly, charging at the scene, huge weaponry in both of their hands. Mustadar blinked, smiling as he gazed upon his old friend's face. The entire uproar stopped, staring at the Stampeding giants, they all panicked! The Magnataur leader, Hragadon, had not percieved that he would even need to lift a finger to slay these interlopers. The chieftain pulled out a horn, blowing into the thing, as two rather small, wide magnataur lessers walked around from a small hill, being hidden. They had chains in their hands, but what the chains were attached to made even the giants begin to blink. The chain pulled up, and up, and up. At this point in the story, one begins to wonder. "Why not just run away?" Well, obviously, if they did that, there wouldn't be a story to tell! The chain pulled up finally, to reveal the face of a rather ugly beats. Blue faced, with thick, bristly white fur. Legends spoke of these things. The bear giants. Huge mutts, often mistaken for Storm Giants, were rather Wendigo. They are very tall to the North, but extremely scarce. The chaos of such a sight was mighty, seeing such titans charge at eachother, Grish turned to charge right at the bastard of a beast, the thing roaring, and standing on it's hind legs, beating on it's chest. The floor began to move, small earthquakes from all of the stomping around. The shaking broke most of the original fight up, everyone nearly falling to their bums. The female that was with him, considerably small, when compared to the Wendigo, ran to them. Nothing but her forehead and eyes could be seen under her thick, hooded coat of rhino and mammoth hides. One could tell she was rather jolly, a large belly sloshing around, but with thick, hard arms, fleshing tightly against her garments, her form being menacing at best. A huge stone mace was pulled from her back, swinging in large cleaves to the little magnataur. She growled fiercly, shredding their numbers slowly. Cleaves, grunts, and jerks. She knew what she was doing. The fight turned back up on the Taunka's side, the numbers completely even, this outrageously huge fight starting again, as the Taunka fought ruthlessly, being trampled back down. Mustadar charged a chain lightning spell, charging two magnataur to their deaths with electricity, a few taunka hopping over the corpses, and jumping right into the Magnataur's numbers, never to be seen again. The burned, torn corpses of his brothers wreaked havoc on the boy, putting him into a blind rage, finally noticing that he, and three braves were the only ones left. He cursed this day, never speaking of it to anyone. It was the day he died. He never did see Grish again, nor did he find a mourning wife, or a dead wendigo. For all he knows, he's insane and just thinking this all up. Acherus: The Ebon Hold Work in Progress!